


Journey To Remember

by XtaticPearl



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gryffindor, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hufflepuff, M/M, Mystery, Ravenclaw, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtaticPearl/pseuds/XtaticPearl
Summary: Hogwarts is magical, both literally and otherwise, and is home to those who find family in friends. It is also a place of mysteries and legends though, something a bunch of students will learn about them when they begin their Hogwarts journey - nineteen years after a war that many think was truly won.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsallAvengers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/gifts).



“You have your tool kit?” Ana asked, peering into the face of the floppy haired boy, crouching to get on his level, “The brush for Dummy?”

Jarvis cleared his throat discreetly but Ana ignored her husband as she smoothed the hair off Tony’s forehead, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes.

“You’ll be happy, Anthony,” Ana kissed the nervous boy’s forehead and caressed his cheek with her thumb, “You’ll meet new friends, find new things to learn, make a lot of mess”

Tony chuckled feebly at that and Ana smiled.

“That’s it, darling,” the governess of the Stark heir cupped the boy’s cheeks, “This is just a new journey. A good journey. You just have to find the fun parts of it.”

Tony swallowed and clenched his hands in his neat suit once before straightening it. Father always said that clothes were an armour, a shield from the world. If they were perfect, crisp and polished, then people then people saw strength. Tony had always liked stories of knights and princes who wore shining armours to fight the bad men; the stories of King Arthur and his trusted wizard, the stories that he read under the sheets with a hushed _Lumos._

Tony knew that Ana and Jarvis would never tell Father, but he always kept his voice hushed. Mother kept hers hushed too sometimes.

Somebody yelled about the train leaving in ten minutes and Ana looked up, beyond Tony’s shoulder.

“Well then, Master Anthony,” Jarvis placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder and awkwardly patted him once, “Remember to write after your Sorting. And keep your wand safe, none of that putting it in your back pocket, alright? Give your Aunt Peggy our wishes, but _don’t_ call her Aunt Peggy during -”

“Yes, Edwin, he knows,” Ana stood up and shot her husband an amused look before opening her handbag, “Now, I have one last thing for you before you leave.”

“I’ve already packed everything!” Tony protested but Ana shook her head and pulled out a blue crystal framed in a gold circular rim. It looked like the globe in Mother’s study but glowed and felt more coarse.

“This,” Ana placed the stone in his hand and closed his fist, “is a special Rememberall. The usual ones glow red and tell you chores you’ve forgotten. But this? Oh no, this does much more.”

“Ana..”

“This Rememberall,” Ana ignored Jarvis and held Tony’s gaze, “reminds you of people. Your professors who’ve given you assignments, your friends whom you’ve promised something, your pet who needs to be fed. It works with living beings. All you have to do, is whisper a name and a relation to it.”

Tony eyed the crystal ball with curious awe and carefully stuffed it into his coat pocket. He always had trouble with people. Names, faces, those he could remember; anything else connected to them, he couldn’t. He forgot birthdays, allergies, favourite chocolates. Father never remembered these too and Mother once said that it was a Stark trait but Tony didn’t like how he felt when he forgot.

“Thank you,” he muttered and gave a quick hug to Ana, who ghosted her lips over his hair, and one to Jarvis, who tightened his arm around Tony’s back once before letting him go.

Tony had gotten into the train and was past the first compartment when he remembered something.

“Excuse me,” Tony pushed his way carefully through the students who were climbing in, “Excuse me, please.”

When he got to the window of the train door, Tony frantically looked for Ana and Jarvis till his eyes landed on them moving away from the bench they had waited on.

“Ana! Ana!” Tony waved and craned his neck out. Jarvis caught his eye and hurried over with a worried expression.

“What? What is it? Did you forget something?”

“What if I get into the wrong House?” Tony asked, eyes wide and hands gripping the window’s frame tight. He had buried this fear for months, always avoiding asking Father about it whenever he predicted that Tony would get into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Father had been a Gryffindor himself but Tony didn’t know if he was like him, even if people loved to say that he resembled him a lot.

It terrified him on a base level, wondering what he would do if he landed in a House not meant for him. There was a voice in the back of his head that suggested that he was more worried about landing in the wrong House for _Starks_ but Tony shoved it in and looked desperately at Jarvis.

Jarvis opened his mouth and paused before he sighed, leaning closer against the window till he was in whispering distance.

“May I tell you a secret, Master Anthony?”

Tony thought he nodded but he was too worried to actually be aware of it but Jarvis spoke again so he must have indicated something.

“There is no wrong House in Hogwarts,” Jarvis said, shaking his head with a calm expression, “Every House welcomes its students to seven years of forming a family. You cannot go wrong with your House, because your House is always worthy of you. It is only the company you keep inside and outside your House, and the choices you make for or with them that makes a difference.”

“But what about Slytherin?” Tony asked in a whisper and Jarvis quirked his lips a little.

“Nineteen years ago,” Jarvis replied, “Hogwarts was saved by its four Houses. The Golden Saviour was protected by the professors of all four Houses. Yes, there were students who did not participate but always remember this, Master Anthony. Every one of them was a child and every one of them chose to live. It is never a crime to live, Master Anthony. Don’t ever judge a child for choosing to do so.”

“But…”

“Whichever House you join,” Ana cut in, eyes fond and a hand on Jarvis’ shoulder, “it would be the best thing to happen to that House. Your House does not define your pride, Tony. _You_ make your House proud. So, no matter which colours you wear, wear them with pride and bring name to them. If you do that, you will know that your House was meant for you.”

Tony took a deep breath and leaned away from the window. The whistle blew for the first signal and Tony watched as his governess and butler moved away from the train, waving with nervous but proud smiles.

He didn’t know if he wished his parents had come instead. He knew that they wouldn’t have waved though, so he waved back at Ana and Jarvis as he let his breath out.

The second whistle blew and Tony turned around to find his compartment.

His journey to Hogwarts started with his back to his home and Tony stuffed his hands into his coat pockets.

It’d be fine. He’d be fine. He’d just have to find the fun parts of this.

He crossed the fourth compartment door with that thought only to crash and fall when someone opened it to come barelling out.

“Shit, Stevie, what did you do?” he heard someone call out from inside the compartment and Tony bit back a groan as he opened his eyes, leaning up on his elbows to see who had crashed into him.

His eyes met a pair of azure eyes on a blond, scrawny boy who was scowling at his own bruised elbow and Tony sat up, wincing as he felt his head spin.

Must have been the fall, he thought faintly and felt the train move finally.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve was born with two parts anger, one part stubbornness, and one part madness. These were Bucky’s words but Steve had heard them in such frequency over the past eleven years, that he might very well make that his definition. On rare occasions, when Steve would want to get back at Bucky for being a jerk, he would pick a fight that he was five parts in total and not just four.

Bucky would just scream _It’s math!_ in between

incoherent rants and Steve would calmly let him go on.

His mother called him all-parts-sneaky for good reason.

“It won’t work,” Bucky stressed again, spreading his hands and flailing with exuberance as he stared up at Steve, “It’s just plain _common sense._ You’ll get caught and then we’ll be in detention even _before_ we get into our House.”

“Houses,” Jane, the girl with the long hair and fidgety fingers corrected absently as she scowled down at her book like it had offended her, “You can’t predict that you’ll be in the same House, so, Houses.”

Bucky stared at her before staring up at Steve, who was busy rolling down his sleeves and simply shrugged at his best friend. They’d come into the compartment after Jane, who had simply waved at them once before getting back to her book. Steve had offered her his corn pops but she had refused them, conveniently shutting down any chances of a conversation too. She hadn’t been mean or rude about it though, so Bucky figured that she was just not interested.

Something he wished Steve would be in this stupid plan.

“Merlin’s beard, Stevie, look at the guy, he’s fine,” Bucky waved in the last occupant’ s direction, “Besides, we’ll be at Hogwarts soon -”

“In five hours,” the boy, Clint Barton, quipped.

“- and there’ll be a feast immediately -”

“After the Sorting,” Clint interjected, twirling an arrow-head shaped trinket in his hand, “Which, if you take the population of fresh meat every year now, will take long enough to late night.”

“- and we won’t _get detention_ before joining the school officially,” Bucky plowed on, stressing each word as he shot a quick glare Clint’s way.

“ _Can_ you get detention if you’ve not joined officially?” Clint wondered out loud and Bucky turned completely, holding Steve’s gaze firmly with his own.

“Steven,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster from years of telling Steve no, “Do not steal from the food cart. Not even for the fake-starving boy who’s going to die at my hands sometime during the next seven years.”

“Hey, I didn’t even have dinner last night,” Clint muttered and Bucky could see Steve’s expression tighten.

“We won’t steal,” Steve breathed out and squared his jaw, “I’ll drop off some coins. We’ll just take the ones that’ll help.”

“You can’t afford it,” Bucky said quietly and he hated it, hated saying it so casually in front of other kids because Steve could never afford things. He could never afford his own, but he still tried to get things for those who needed them.

Steve grit his jaw and met Bucky’s stare head-on, refusing to back down the way he always did. Healer Erskine, who worked with Steve’s Ma, always said that Steve had been born with a brick wall lining his body. Born with a shield in his chest, an in-born need to stand his ground when pushed and defend himself when cornered.

Steve wondered if that was good, seeing as he had thought he’d been a squib with a failing body for half his childhood. He had been sick when Bucky had first displayed his magic when they were two. He had been sick when Gabe had presented his magic at Muggle elementary’s bathroom. He had been sick and magic-less till he had turned 10, something that had made his mother’s face pinch quite a few times. Steve’s father had been a squib and their neighbour sometimes said that he left because he couldn’t live with that. Ma always snorted at that though, and said that war always tested a man’s will and not his magic.

Still, Steve was glad when he had his first magic reveal. It got him to this moment, on the Hogwarts Express; he thought that was a good incentive as it was, but the idea of proving himself worthy in the magical world wasn’t without temptation either.

“I could go do it myself, you know?” Clint offered when Bucky didn’t back away from the stare contest but Steve didn’t answer him. He knew that there was no answer to it. Steve knew that Bucky understood hunger but he was still not used to holding it as a normalcy like Steve knew. He would buy 2 bars of chocolate when he needed one, use his good shirts on casual days, buy his cat treats. He knew hunger but he didn’t know starvation.

Steve did and he could recognize it on Clint Barton’s face and the anger of it in his masked body language. The boy had come in after Steve and Bucky, smirking with a confidence Steve had seen in his reflection when he squared off against bullies.

It had been inevitable for Steve to offer food to Clint.

“You with me?” Steve asked quietly and Bucky sighed, deflating in resignation.

“There’s gonna be a long line of people who’ll have your hide for this,” he shook his head but shrugged with a wry smile, “but yeah. Till the end of the line, I’m with you.”

Steve nodded once and then shot Clint a look before taking a deep breath.

He pulled on his courage and yanked open the sliding door of the compartment, ready to barge into another bout of madness when he crashed into someone, falling himself and sending the other boy sprawling too.

“Shit, Stevie, what did you do?” he heard Bucky curse from inside the compartment but Steve’s elbow was throbbing from where he had dashed it against the corridor wall and he scowled down at it.

The other boy made a noise, a bitten back sound of pain, and Steve snapped his eyes up to see what had really happened.

The first thing Steve noticed was that the boy had really nice hair. The second thing he noticed was that his eyes were mildly unfocused. The third thing though, was that his lip was bleeding.

“Uh-oh,” Steve heard from above him and he knew that it was Clint, it was clear that it was him standing above them, “We’ve got a problem here, _Bucky._ ”

“Is it called either Steve or Clint? Because yes, then it’s clearly a problem,” Bucky grumbled and his voice came closer, meaning that he was poking his head out of the compartment too, “Uh, who’re you?”

The brown haired boy glanced between Steve, Clint and Bucky for a minute before he got up carefully, dusting his knees.

“Tony,” he said and his gaze fell to Steve for a minute, who was still on the ground, “Tony Stark. Do you need a hand?”

“A brain would be more helpful,” Bucky muttered and Steve made sure to stamp on his foot as he stood up, smiling serenely before eyeing Tony.

“You’re bleeding,” he informed him and saw Tony poke at his lip, “Don’t do that, it’ll sting more. Just - here come on in, come inside.”

Tony eyed the corridor ahead and then the compartment where Jane was still engrossed in her book.

“Just come in,” Bucky advised and moved aside so that the boy could enter, “Maybe this’ll distract these two from their madness.”

“I’m still hungry,” Clint complained with a grunt and Tony’s expression turned thoughtful, his eyes quickly taking in the way Clint was trying to press his stomach, and Tony’s feet shuffled forward towards the compartment.

“Would you -” he paused and Steve thought he would swallow the thought but Tony continued, looking at Clint, “Would you like some cookies? Or pie?”

“You paying?” Clint asked with a raised eyebrow, obviously expecting a stammered denial or hesitancy but Tony shoved one hand into his coat pocket and nodded.

“I - I haven’t seen the cart yet,” he said and Steve could see him being deliberately slow in picking his words, “Do you think they’ll have Chocolate Frogs with Sirius Black?”

“You a Padfoot fan?” Clint asked and Steve caught Bucky’s eye, sharing a look as Tony entered their compartment engaging Clint in a discussion about the Marauders and the Weasley Twins, which devolved into a discussion about the best Weasley products.

Steve wasn’t surprised when neither Jane nor Clint objected to Tony shifting into their compartment.

He was surprised though, when Tony bought food off the cart in quantities more than he could eat. The surprise slid into suspicion when he offered the food to the others but Tony casually slipped two Chocolate Frogs onto Clint’s lap, saying that he already had those cards and Steve caught the boy looking more relaxed as Clint ate them.

“We’ll pay you back later,” Steve said as he accepted a pack of chocolates and caught Tony’s face fall for some reason but then Jane chimed in and smiled at Tony as she took a chocolate from him: Steve saw Tony flush slightly and smile wider when Jane took a candy too, asking Tony about his favourite books. It didn’t make sense to Steve but then he caught that flush again when Bucky slapped Tony’s back on a joke and it hit him.

Tony was clearly rich but he also was lonely. He offered food and whatever he could to make himself useful so that he could have people to talk to.

Steve remembered quiet days in the playground when Bucky was too busy to meet up and the other kids wouldn’t acknowledge his presence unless he was fetching the ball when it crossed the fence-line.

It wasn’t what Tony was, not even close but Steve knew the temptation of company when he was lonely.

Taking a breath, he nudged Tony’s shoulder and pointed at a half-torn cake.

“Wanna share?” he asked and the boy with brown hair and twinkling mad eyes grinned.

Steve was still three parts anger, one part stubbornness, and one part madness but as he ribbed and laughed and made friends with three new people apart from Bucky, he figured that maybe he had space left for one more part.

One part of friendship.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Clint did when he got off the train was to knock a boy’s glasses off. Tony would call it an accident but in the past five hours he had spent with Clint, he’d learned that accident was just another name for Clint as a person. If tripping over one’s own feet were a skill, Clint would be an expert in it. So when Clint tripped over nothing and grabbed the first person in front of him, knocking him down - Tony wasn’t really surprised.

  
“It’s cracked,” Jane observed as she picked up the glasses that had fallen near her feet, testing the frame and wincing, “The frame is bent too.”  
  
“Let’s hope he’s not cracked,” Bucky pulled the fallen boy up and peered at him as his face looked pinched, “Are you alright?”  
  
The boy shifted away when Bucky looked to lay a hand on his shoulder and nodded tightly, blinking hard as he stretched out a hand to ask his glasses back. Tony saw a scrape on his palm but the boy changed his hand immediately, like he had detected Tony’s gaze.  
  
“My - my glasses,” he asked and Jane held on to it as she placed it in his hand.  
  
“It’s broken,” she told him, a small frown appearing and smoothing out on her face, “You shouldn’t put this on, the frame is going to hurt you, see there, it’s bent and out of -”  
  
“My glasses,” the curly brown-haired boy snapped, his voice getting tighter and Tony could see his other hand flexing, trying not to clench up in a fist. He quickly looked over the boy and could see the hints in the hunched shoulders, darting eyes, a slightly swollen cheekbone, and the shifting feet. He knew, he just knew that this boy was used to being pushed, used to having things broken, and definitely not used to anyone fixing things for him.  
  
Tony’s eyes cut over the brunet and met Steve’s, only mildly surprised when he found the blond boy looking back at him before glancing at Bruce speakingly. Steve was different, unlike Tony in so many ways, but he had the same sharp glance for reading people; something Tony had understood when he had watched Steve interact with Clint during the train ride. He was also not from the best of backgrounds, Tony had gathered when he had found out their initial plan to go nick some food from the cart if money fell short. The fact that it was for Clint and not Steve himself made Tony feel confused but also impressed; he didn’t have many friends of his own but he did silently know that he would love to have one like Steve.  
  
Tony’s eyes went back to the brunet boy who was now putting his glasses back on carefully and he made a quick decision.  
  
“Hey, they’re calling for the first-years,” he said, pointing at the large man around whom all the kids were gathering, “We should get going. You’re a first-year too, right?”  
  
The boy jerked and frowned but nodded. Tony grinned, shuffling closer and angling himself towards him.  
  
“Great, you can come with us then”  
  
“I can go alone,” the boy shot back and Tony’s face fell but then he noticed Clint casually slinging an arm around the boy.  
  
“Well, you can but we’re good company, mate,” he grinned, not pausing when the boy froze up and then relaxed, “C’mon, I’ll fix the glasses too.”  
  
“I don’t need - I can do it.”  
  
“Sure, but I’m the one with the uncoordinated feet and hands,” Clint shrugged and steered the boy along as they started moving towards the man who was calling for them, “Where I come from, there’s only one rule: You break it, you fix it. I’m Clint, by the way, just in case you were wondering who your charming new fixer was.”  
  
“Is that what we’re calling the Human Accident now?” Bucky snorted and Tony walked beside Clint, resisting the urge to tug on his robes.  
  
“What, Clint? It’s what I was always called,  _Bucky_ ” Clint shot back.

“Do you really know to fix it?” Tony asked with a curious frown and Clint shot him a look, easily letting the new brunet slip from under his arm.

“I’m great at fixing, Stark,” he informed Tony imperiously.

Turned out, Clint was  _terrible_ at fixing.

“How are you so terrible at it?” Steve asked in an incredulous tone as Tony took the now deformed glasses from Clint and sat beside Bruce, the brunet.

“It’s a new spell! It just needs tweaking!” Clint retorted with fake indignation and Tony let the others bicker as he set pulled out his mini-tool kit from his pocket.

He set to work, carefully pulling and twisting at the metal, narrowed eyes focused as he unscrewed and screwed the joints with precision. 

“That’s a nice kit,” someone commented quietly and Tony knew that it was Bruce, but he kept his eyes on the glasses.

“I like fixing things,” he shrugged with one shoulder and lifted the glasses to eye-level to see the balance, “And I break a lot of things, so it comes in use.”

“It’s a  _Muggle_  tool kit though,” Bruce observed and Tony blew at the glasses before smoothing out the straightened frame.

“Sometimes,” he said with a small smile, “it’s good to use your hands instead of magic.”

He looked up and saw Bruce regarding him with a curious but friendly look and pulled out his wand with a wink.

“But sometimes,” he said as he pointed it at the glasses, “it’s also good to use magic to give things a good finish.  _Reparo_.”

The cracked glass healed with a quiet  _snick_  and Tony passed it over to Bruce with a smile.

“Thanks,” Bruce said softly and smiled back before they settled down to watch as the Hogwarts Castle came closer.

The first thing Tony noticed as he walked up the stairs to the entrance of the Great Hall was the painting of a young boy and his mother, lowest in the wall near the door. The boy was running around his sighing mother and winked at Tony when he caught his sight. Tony blinked and looked away.

The second thing he noticed was Professor Margaret Carter. The Head of Gryffindor who took them inside the Hall with a quick look at them. His godmother. Aunt Peggy. The urge to wave was high but Tony managed to swallow it and bumped his shoulder against Bruce lightly as they walked.

The third thing he noticed was that Steve was  _really_  good at finding fights.

“That’s  _not_  true,” Steve grit his jaw and cooly glared at the blond boy who was loudly arguing with his brother over the Houses, “You’re wrong.”

“Come now, friend,” the new blond snorted and waved around at the Gryffindor side of decoration, “Everybody knows that Gryffindor is the best House there is. And everyone knows that Slytherin is the House where wizards go wrong the most.”

“Thor,” the boy’s dark-haired brother warned in a soft low voice, bright green eyes eyeing Steve with tight suspicion but the blond brother didn’t pay mind.

“ _Slytherin_ ,” Steve argued with his hands clenching for a second at his sides but his head held high, “is a House, an honourable House of this school. Just as every House, it had students of all kinds.”

“Yes, but do you not see the prejudiced and condescending history of theirs?” the boy, Thor, asked with an amused expression and raised eyebrow, and Tony watched Steve’s face smooth out into a cold mask.

“The only prejudice I see right now is from someone condemning an entire House because of a condescending belief,” Steve said and would have continued if Professor Carter hadn’t clinked her glass at the High Table.

Thor was pulled away by his brother to the front and Steve exhaled sharply, staring resolutely ahead.

“He’s the prince of Asgard,” a red haired girl commented and everyone turned to see her standing beside Clint, sharp jade eyes flicking towards them before gazing at the High Table, “Thor Odinson, and the other one is his adopted brother, Loki. They’re the first generation of their family to come to Hogwarts. They’re usually home-schooled but this time, Odin decided to widen their knowledge.”

“Who’re you?” Bucky asked, “And where did you  _come_  from? I didn’t even see you standing here before.”

“They have regular eye-checkups here, maybe that’ll help,” she replied and smiled slightly when Clint choked on a guffaw, “Natasha Romanoff, I heard golden boy argue with the prince and thought I’d see how that goes.”

“Well, it went well,” Clint shook his head and looked at Steve, who was staring up at the professors, “Was that really necessary? Not that it wasn’t awesome, but just -”

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve cut in with a quiet strength to his voice, “I don’t care where they’re from.”

Tony exchanged a look with Bruce and Bucky eyed his best friend but then Natasha spoke up, a thoughtful look smoothing into a smirk on her face.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s time to see where  _we_  go now,” she gestured to the front where Professor Carter stood up to begin the Sorting, “It’s time, boys.”

Tony breathed in and felt his heart beat faster as the first name was read out. 

“Banner, Bruce,” Professor Carter read out and Bruce breathed out hard, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow before he walked forward on stiff legs. 

“Ravenclaw,” Jane bet and Tony nodded in agreement, because he had seen Bruce eye the blue banners as they had entered the Hall.

The hat was silent for a while before it toppled a little and yelled.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Bruce straightened his robes and glasses with a shaky smile, slinking into the assigned table where people greeted him with polite nods and handshakes. 

“Barnes, James” she read out after three students were welcomed into Slytherin and Gryffindor. Tony felt Steve stiffen next to him and risked a quick squeeze to his hand as they watched Bucky breath in deep before walking towards the stool.

“My bet’s on Hufflepuff,” Clint whispered and Steve shook his head as they watched the hat being placed on Bucky’s head.

“Gryffindor,” Steve quipped and Tony didn’t look back to see if Clint had nodded or was making a face because the hat opened its mouth.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The long table with red and gold decorations hanging above it exploded into cheers as Bucky grinned wide and got off the stool with shaky legs, shooting Steve a wave before he joined his new House amid back-slaps and exuberant handshakes.

“Barton, Clinton”

“This sucks,” Clint muttered and almost tripped on his way to the stool, shooting out a peace sign when some students laughed. 

“Gryffindor,” Jane bet as soon as Clint plopped onto the seat with a wink at Professor Carter.

“Hufflepuff,” Steve and Tony disagreed simultaneously, shooting each other small looks before looking back at Clint.

“Looks deceive,” Natasha commented and hummed, “I bet on the raven.”

“RAVENCLAW!” the hat yelled and all of them turned to stare at Natasha, who shrugged with a small smile.

Clint definitely tripped on his way to the table and hugged Bruce with a yell that got them more laughs before settling down next to him.

“Rhodes, James,” the Professor called out and Tony was busy remembering that Steve would come first, and then Natasha, and then him.

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind him and Tony turned to see a dark eyed boy with a cropped fuzz and sharp jaw, “I have to go.”

“Ah, sure, good luck” Tony shuffled and moved aside to let the boy go, and stifled a yelp when the boy, James Rhodes, stepped on his foot in his hurry.

“Sorry,” the boy called out over his shoulder with a wince that smoothed over quickly before walking calmly to the stool. 

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat yelled after a few minutes of silence and Tony blinked when the boy nodded at  _him_  as he walked towards the Slytherin table, a courteous smile on his face as he sat down.

When Steve’s name was called, Tony heard him mutter something under his breath but the boy didn’t look nervous, walking confidently towards the stool, his head held high and eyes calm.

Tony waited with bated breath as the hat took the longest time with him.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” Natasha asked from beside him and Tony paused before shaking his head.

“I think it’s finding the perfect House for him,” he whispered, “I bet it’s Gryffindor.”

“Could be,” Natasha agreed and watched as the hat opened its mouth wide, ready to yell out the name.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Tony heard a gasp from somewhere in the Gryffindor’s side and knew it was Bucky. There was a choking sound from the Ravenclaw’s table and he definitely knew that it was Clint.

“I’ll be damned,” Natasha whistled low and Tony could only watch with awe as Steve thanked the professor before calmly walking towards the Slytherin table, one look spared in the Gryffindor table’s direction before he settled down near Rhodes.

Somehow, Tony knew that the look wasn’t meant for Bucky. It was meant for another blond boy, a prince, who had already been sorted into Gryffindor.

Tony didn’t know if he should laugh hysterically or curse out loud; of course, Steve had purposefully chosen a House that was always looked down on by people who stuck to the legends and myths of the past. Of course, he had chosen the House where he would have to prove himself to the other Houses constantly, but maybe not much to his own housemates.

His eyes met Bucky’s and he saw the boy’s incredulous expression. He knew that it was mirroring his own.

“Romanoff, Natasha,” the professor called out and Tony watched her walk with confident steps.

She kept her eyes trained on no-one as the hat sat on her head for a minute before declaring its verdict.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Tony would have bet on Slytherin but as he watched Natasha slip into the Ravenclaw table, nudging Clint and sitting between him and Bruce, he wondered if he was holding on to ideas too hard. 

“Stark, Anthony,” Professor Carter read out and Tony saw her eyes catch his gaze; a small flicker of a smile graced her lips before it vanished. He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked, the way Jarvis had taught him to when people were watching him. He didn’t flinch when the hat was placed on his head and trained his eyes at a distant wall.

“ _So,”_ he heard the hat speak, “ _Another Stark. It’s always interesting to see one of your minds.”_

“Pick the right House, pick the right House…” Tony chanted under his breath and heard the hat chuckle.

“ _And what is the right House for you, hmm, Stark?”_ it asked, “ _Will it be Slytherin, where you will learn to achieve more than people expect you to? Or Gryffindor, where your need for adventure will always be welcomed? Or should you be a  Ravenclaw, with the brains of yours, I suspect you’ll find it quite useful.”_

Tony’s tongue lingered on Gryffindor, where his father would be proud of him. Or Ravenclaw, where he could be with Bruce and Clint, and could be called smart because of his colours.

But then an image flashed in his mind, the face of Jarvis talking to him through a train’s window.

_Your House does not define your pride, Tony. You make your House proud._

Tony thought about the praise people showered on Gryffindor for its bravery. On Ravenclaw for its intelligence. The grudging respect for Slytherin’s ambition and shrewdness.

He thought about the way the hat had mentioned three Houses.

He thought about his mother, who was from the fourth House. Who loved him and told him so whenever she could.

He thought about Ana, who was from the House that was always talked about with a vague shrug. Ana, who was kind, protective, loyal, and  _good_.

He thought about his deepest desire to be accepted and do good.

He breathed out and told his answer to the hat.

“ _Are you sure, young Stark_?” the hat asked, “ _You will be accepted there, and find friends, but you will not find what your family has always sought.”_

“I’m sure,” Tony said and the hat hummed in mild approval before it yelled and Tony felt his ears ring.

“ _HUFFLEPUFF!”_

The table with black and yellow decorations hanging above it exploded into cheers and Tony heard a cheer from the professors’ table. He stood up and turned slightly to see the Head of Hufflepuff, Professor Janet Van Dyne, cheer with a broad smile, winking at him when he smiled back. 

Tony walked on numb legs and shook hands with a horde of strangers who would become his housemates and even friends for the rest of his time in Hogwarts. 

He sat down between a redhead girl who was busy talking to a pudgy boy beside her and a dark boy who moved to give Tony space.

“Hi, I’m Sam Wilson,” he said and extended a hand with a grin, “We’re gonna be friends and make Hogwarts cooler.”

“Tony,” Tony shook the boy’s hand and laughed involuntarily, “And, uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Stop guessing, Tony,” Sam clapped his back once and pointed at the food that begun appearing on the tables, “And start eating. My Uncle Holt says that the chicken is always good here. Don’t slack off, or you’re not gonna get the good parts, come on.”

Tony nodded and listened as Sam began rattling off about his uncle and family while they helped themselves to the food that kept refilling.

He felt himself laugh louder than he had before over the conversations that flew over the table and let his nerves die as he settled into the House he had chosen.

He figured that his journey had begun quite well after all.


	4. Chapter 4

“That guy’s weird, right?” Rhodes said once Loki finished arranging his bed and left the dorm, looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow, “I’m not the only one who thought it was weird, right?”

Steve dragged his trunk under the bed and shrugged, picking up his books to arrange in the short table beside his bed.

“He has his quirks, I guess,” he offered, even though he agreed that Loki was … weird.

“He called the Hufflepuff Prefect a Mudblood before you came in,” Rhodey said and Steve stiffened, shooting his new dorm mate an incredulous look.

“That’s -”

“Yeah,” Rhodes nodded and the two boys shared a significant look, the kind brothers shared when they knew that an annoying cousin was to share their room for a foreseeable future.

The Slytherin common room was a modified dungeon with a chill in the air and rough stone walls. Green was a common theme with the torches burning with its tinge and the carpet in front of the warm fireplace was embroidered with silver and jade, images of snakes twisting in the borders. The dorm rooms for the girls were forbidden to the boys, as was the rule of Hogwarts, and Steve had heard one of the girls, Jessica, mutter about how the rule wouldn’t stop what they thought it _would_. 

Steve agreed with her. People tended to forget that it wasn’t always about a _boy_  and a _girl_.

The boys’ dorms were off the common room, two rooms for five boys each. Steve was rooming with James Rhodes, the smart looking boy who had joined him on the way from the Hall, and three others - Frank Castle, a quiet boy with hooded eyes, Stephen Strange, a dark haired boy who had not bothered unpacking and was off to speak to some girl he had met during dinner, and Loki Odinson. The brother of Thor Odinson and a prince, going by what Steve had heard. 

The silver lanterns glinted on the walls and Steve sat on his bed, arranging his worn but precious books carefully as Rhodes hung his poster of a P-51 Mustang soaring alongside a Firebolt. 

“What’s the first class tomorrow?” Steve asked as he placed his last book and untied the green silk hangings from the post.

“Transfiguration with Gryffindor,” Rhodes said as he jumped down from his bed, eyeing his poster with a satisfied nod, “And then Flying with Hufflepuff.”

“Ah, flying,” Steve exhaled and picked his pajamas, shutting the curtains to change.

“You don’t like flying?” Rhodes asked from the other side and Steve made a vague sound as he took off his shirt to pull on the night-shirt.

“Not very good at it,” he replied, remembering the times he had fallen from the old broom his Ma could afford. Bucky always said that it was Steve’s balance that pushed him off, that he was trying to balance himself the way healthier and heavier kids did. His bones hurt from sitting on the broom too but Steve never complained about that. He knew that he was better at falling than flying but he loved the feeling of being in the air; the freedom of it and the exhilaration of wind whipping past him.

“I love flying,” Rhodes declared, sounds of shuffling coming from his end, “Dad says that I would stay in the air all the time if I could, and that sounds awesome! Mom told me to get a pet but I said no because an owl would cost us too much and I’d rather use that to get a good broom, you know? I mean, the barn owls do the job of sending letters, and I’m no fan of toads. Cats give me allergies and dogs aren’t allowed here. So, why waste money on anything else, right?”

“Brooms are better than pets?” Steve laughed lightly and opened his curtains when he was done changing. Rhodes’ curtains were closed but Steve heard a thump.

“Are you kidding?” Rhodes demanded and poked his head out of the curtains with a fierce expression, “Brooms are better than _people_ , Rogers.”

“You’ll be trying out for the Quidditch team in a couple of years then,” Steve quipped and scooted onto his bed.

“A couple of years? Aw, no, Rogers, come on,” Rhodes pulled his curtains open and shook his head, “I’m going to kick some ass _this_  year and become the best Beater Hogwarts has seen.”

“Smart,” Steve nodded and leaned against his pillow, “I’m going to focus on DADA though. Professor Carter, right?”

“Yep,” Rhodes answered and shuffled onto his own bed, fluffing his pillow with a punch before lying down, “And Professor Toomes for Quidditch and flying.”

Steve nodded to himself and fell silent, staring up at the ceiling of the room. The green silk curtains lent a mysterious effect while the silver lanterns reminded Steve of moonlight. If he listened well, he could hear the sounds from the Lake and Steve had always loved shores and water. The bed was comfortable, much more than his own back home, and for an instant Steve missed the discomfort. The dull walls and the small makeshift cot which was tied in the edges. The window that was covered by an old bedsheet during nights. 

He missed Bucky, even though he knew that his friend was here and somewhere sleeping in a warm Gryffindor room. He wondered if Bucky was mad at him, even though Bucky had clapped him on the back and congratulated him before leaving with the Gryffindors. Steve closed his eyes and saw a past he was leaving behind as he started a new present.

“Rhodes?”

“Yeah?” the boy asked, sound muffled a little.

“If Loki gets a bad kind of weird, we’ll keep an eye out, okay?” Steve said quietly and waited as Rhodes thought about it.

“Call me James,” Rhodes said at last and Steve smiled a little as he shifted to his side and let himself sleep.

* * *

Tony resisted the urge to drown in his cereal as he dragged his spoon through it. There was a pause for a few precious minutes before it started again and Tony heard Sam groan quietly from beside him.

“Man, hey, Scott,” Sam spoke up finally and Tony stuffed his mouth with cereal, chewing moodily, “for Merlin’s sake, stop. We get it, you like ants, your pets are valid. Just..stop, stop _talking_ for a few minutes about it.”

“And either stop calling _me_  Anthony or your ant,” Tony chimed in, shooting the dark haired boy a look when he huffed, “Seriously, I’ve turned thrice now just to see you talking to a speck on your hand.”

“It’s his name,” Scott retorted and sighed when everybody groaned, “Fine, fine, you’re  _Tony_ and he’s Anthony, okay?”

“Thank you,” Luke said with fervent relief and took a piece of bread from the middle, “I thought things wouldn’t get more painful than Rand’s dragon obsession but man, you managed to exceed it with ants.”

“Hey, dragons are magical and amazing and you know it!” Danny pointed out from beside Luke and Tony shared an eye-roll with Sam.

The Hufflepuff basement had welcomed the boys and their fellow first-years with its warm yellow and black themed common room the previous night. One of the girls, Virginia, had taken to reciting facts about the place through the tour till Harold, another first-year, had stopped her quietly. Tony had understood her penchant for facts, being a curious kind himself, but had simply smiled at her before joining Sam in their alloted dorm. The one they shared with Luke Cage, a boy who had rolled out a Kenny Washington poster over his bed, Scott Lang, who had ants for pets, and Daniel Rand, whose life goal was to breed dragons.

Tony recognized Danny from a party they had met at once in the Rand Manor but he didn’t know him well enough. Sam and Luke were friends by the morning, and Tony liked to pretend that he didn’t know Scott whenever he spoke to his ants.

It was the most fun Tony had ever had.

“What’s our first class again?” Luke asked as he chewed on his breakfast and Scott opened his mini-planner.

“Potions with Professor Pym,” he read out and closed the planner, “and then we have flying with Professor Toomes.”

“We have Potions with Ravenclaw, right?” Danny asked and Tony nodded.

“Then flying with Slytherin,” he said, pushing aside his bowl once he was finished, “Which is what I’m most excited for.”

“Me too,” Sam nodded and paused as he drank his juice, “I can’t wait to fly here. The grounds are _amazing_! Hey, do you think Drax will let first-years try out for the team?”

Tony remembered hearing about the Hufflepuff Captain and Beater, Drax, and his codes for the team. 

“Can’t hurt to try,” Danny shrugged and Sam nodded with conviction before turning to look at Tony.

“What about you, Tony? You’ll try out too?”

Tony’s first instinct was to say _yes_. It was an indescribable feeling, an exhilaration, to be in the air. Tony had always loved it, always enjoyed getting away from the ground where people and propriety and parents roamed in rows. He had dreams of chasing a Quaffle, of rolling and dipping and diving through the air as he scored goal after goal. He had dreams of celebrating a win, of team cheers, and adrenaline fueled moments till the score rated his team victorious. 

He had dreams and he had reality. He knew what Father would say to Tony wasting his time with Quidditch while he ‘should’ be dabbling in Arithmancy and Potions and Alchemy. 

He shrugged and ignored the momentary quiet look Sam gave him before nodding.

“Alright,” Scott slapped his hands on his knees and got up finally, “let’s go kick some potions!”

“That’ll get you detention,” Luke pointed out as he stood too, moving to let Danny get up.

“I was going to say potions’ ass but - guys - hey. Come on, it was funny!”

The boys laughed as they walked towards their class, letting Scott grumble about them being uncool.

Potions was held in a damp smelling dungeon of a place, with cauldrons and potion-tables lined neatly in rows. Sam nudged Tony and pointed at Bruce and Clint when he spotted them. 

“Hey,” Clint waved when they joined them and grinned at Tony, “Nice to see you, Puffy.”

“Clint,” Bruce groaned lightly with an eye-roll and looked at Tony, “Ignore him, his jokes get worse with every hour.”

“What? I can’t call my dear Hufflepuff friend who _betrayed us_  Puffy?” Clint asked with a mock hurt expression before narrowing his eyes at Tony, “You. You were supposed to like us. I thought we had a bond, Stark, I thought we bonded over cake and misery and Bruce’s failed dodging skills.”

“What is he babbling about?” Tony asked and Sam laughed as Bruce shoved Clint off his shoulder when he pretended to cry on it.

“He thinks you joined Hufflepuff to get away from all of us,” Bruce explained with a deadpan expression, “Because he expected you to choose Ravenclaw.”

“Well, what a thought,” Tony rolled his eyes and hid a smirk as he eyed Clint, “Not entirely false though.”

“ _Betrayal!”_

 _“_ And this is a good introduction,” Sam snorted, offering a hand to Bruce, “Hi, Sam Wilson. I stole your friend here.”

“You’re so _proud_  of it,” Clint sniffed and eyed the hand Sam offered him.

“Hey, when you get the chance, you gotta own your style,” Sam grinned, and patted Clint’s cheek when he refused to shake hands, “Besides, I think Bruce here is enough victim to you anyway.”

Everybody chuckled at that and Clint huffed out a grin too after faking a hurt expression. They didn’t get the chance to talk further though when Professor Pym entered the class, pushing his glasses up his nose and nodding at the smattering of greetings he got.

Professor Hank Pym was the Head of Ravenclaw and it showed when he didn’t bother to ask the names of the students he hadn’t met from the previous night. Tony suspected that it wasn’t an intentional oversight; the man was simply too caught up to think it necessary.

They were paired off in twos and Tony was allotted to be paired with Maria Hill, a Ravenclaw who had been chatting with Natasha till the professor had announced her name. 

“You’re Howard Stark’s son, aren’t you?” she asked as the first thing when he greeted her and Tony swallowed a sigh.

This was going to be either a long class or a painful one.

* * *

“Someone’s waving at you,” James said as they entered the ground with their brooms and Steve squinted to see Tony standing beside a darker boy who was waving at them.

“I don’t know who that is but the one standing near him is Tony,” Steve replied and hefted his broom up, absently thinking how the school brooms were so much better than his own broom.

Defense Against The Dark Arts had been one hell of an experience with Professor Carter and Steve hadn’t thought once about the nerves involving flying throughout the entire class. Margaret Carter was a renowned ex-Auror who had been one of Steve’s biggest inspirations to dream about becoming an Auror himself. She had been through the Great War when she was no older than a fresh graduate of Hogwarts, and Steve had heard enough tales about her bravery through it. She had also been one of the most vocal advocates for equality of Muggle-borns and rights for squibs, something that hit too close to home for Steve. 

James told him that he looked like she had hung the stars and the moon throughout the class.

He suspected that James wasn’t far off the mark, especially after she had shut one of her first-years, Hodge, down for making a condescending remark about Slytherins.

“Hey,” Steve called out as they got near Tony and his friend, “how was the first class?”

“It was okay,” Tony shrugged but his friend snorted and eyed him with a grin.

“You made Hill’s cauldron explode,” he chuckled and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Explode is such an exaggeration,” he corrected, and looked at Steve with a guileless expression, “It was just a minor charring and a couple of cracks. Honestly, it’s still usable.”

“By whom is the question I feel is appropriate,” James chimed in and offered his hand, “James Rhodes, hi. Sorry for stepping on your feet yesterday.”

“Tony Stark, and I was in your way, it’s okay,” Tony shook his hand and gestured towards his friend, “This is -”

“Falcon,” the boy introduced in a serious tone, “Call me Falcon.”

“Why would _anybody_ do that?” James asked with a raised eyebrow and Steve caught Tony shaking his head.

“His name is Sam Wilson,” Tony said with a tired grin but Sam shook his head.

“Nah, that’s when I’m indoors,” he said and gestured to the ground around them, “Here, on the field, ready to fly? I’m Falcon.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve offered his hand and grinned as he shook Sam’s hand, “and that name’s going to get ridiculous way too soon just so you know.”

“Wait till I conquer the skies and you get to eat your words, buddy,” Sam pointed at him with a smirk and Tony shared a look with James.

“That’s the cheesiest crap I’ve heard,” James said.

The banter was cut short when Professor Toomes walked in with his famous ‘Vulture’ broom, a custom broom he used from his glory days of playing with the Winsome Vultures. They were told to stand in parallel rows, two lines facing each other, with their brooms lying beside them.

“Alright, kids,” Toomes called out, walking around them, “The first rule of flying, is simple and the most important one: confidence. You can’t fly if you can’t command your broom, and you can’t command your broom if you don’t believe that you can fly. It needs to come from within you, and for that, I’m gonna need every one of you to take a deep breath, calm your mind, and believe that you can touch the sky today.”

Steve took a deep breath and eyed his broom, rolling his shoulders slightly.

“Now, when you’re ready,” Toomes continued, “I want everyone to say it clearly and loudly: Up!”

Steve opened his mouth and a memory flashed in his mind of his mother yelling at him to come down.

“Up!” he commanded and his broom lifted an inch but wobbled and floated touching the ground. 

“Up!” he heard James command beside him and the broom swept swiftly to his hand, the boy catching it with a flourish and a grin.

Steve felt his face burn and tried again and again, a dull swill of embarrassment and annoyance mixing in his gut. The broom finally shot up when Steve let anger colour his command a little and he caught it with satisfaction.

“Up!” he saw Tony command and his broom flew easily into his hand, just as it did with Sam.

“Alright, great,” Toomes nodded and moved in between the two lines of students, “Now mount your brooms, but _don’t fly_  till I blow the whistle.”

The students complied and waited for Toomes to blow the whistle.

“On my whistle,” he said, “gently float up, not too high, just enough to let your feet dangle above the ground.”

The whistle blew and Steve focused on his balance as he floated up. Beside him, James shot up, a few feet higher than necessary.

Toomes opened his mouth to say something but then a student came running, telling him that the Headmaster had called for him immediately.

“Okay, I’ll be back in some time, till then, don’t play the fool, alright?”

The students nodded and agreed but as soon as he left the earshot, everybody started chattering and goofing around.

“Hey, Stark,” Loki called out and Steve saw him holding a blue crystal looking ball, “Look what fell out your pocket.”

Tony’s face froze and he patted his robe once before stepping forward.

“Give it back,” he demanded, a low dangerous tone to his voice, “That’s mine.”

“Finders keepers, isn’t that how the Hufflepuffs say?” Loki taunted and shot into the air with the ball in hand, “Now let’s see if you Puffs are really good finders. Come on, take your ball. If you can.”

“Loki,” Steve warned, mounting his broom and flying up, eyes trained on the boy, “Give him back his Rememberall. Now.”

“Aww, has Rogers found himself a nice little Puff friend?” Loki cooed before sneering, “Back off, Rogers, this is between me and that Stark Puff.”

“Give it back to him or it’s going to be between you and me,” Steve warned again, eyes locked onto Loki’s.

Loki smirked and tossed the ball in the air before catching it.

“So be it”

Loki cut through the air and flew away, forcing Steve to give him chase. It was clear that Loki was a good flier, his speed, and grace speaking of years of practice. Steve had to hold on tight as he tried to keep up with Loki, trying out different angles to corner him. 

He almost caught up with him when Loki pivoted and slammed Steve’s broom away briskly. Steve lost his balance and slipped, falling through the air, his hands grasping at nothing.

He couldn’t scream, his voice stuck in his throat, and Steve thought that this would be the end, closing his eyes as he increased speed towards the ground.

It came as a jolt when someone caught his hands and Steve’s eyes flew open to see Sam and Tony catching one of his hand each, holding him mid-air with their combined strength. 

“Hold on, Steve,” Tony grit out and clutched Steve’s hand with a death-grip, “Sam, let’s go, slow and steady!”

Steve felt his arms scream in pain at being held up, his entire weight bearing on them, but he held on as Sam and Tony flew in sync, both lowering themselves and Steve to the ground.

Steve wobbled for a minute when his feet touched the ground and was supported when the other students came running towards him to check if he was okay. Sam scrambled off his broom and winced as he rotated his arm but Tony hovered over the ground, his face tight and eyes blazing with anger and fear as he searched for Loki.

And then broke into laughter.

Steve looked up too and searched for the spot Tony was looking at to find Rhodes holding Loki’s robe in a vice grip on his own broom, Loki’s trying to escape in vain as he was being dragged back to the ground with Rhodes’ force.

“Now give the guy his Rememberall,” Rhodes said as he landed and dragged Loki towards Tony, shooting a glare at the royal brat, “Or I’m gonna tell Toomes how you almost killed one of his students. Let’s see your royal ass get out of attempted murder, huh?”

Loki shot Rhodes a vicious glare but tossed Tony his blue ball, successfully wrenching his robe from Rhodes’ grip finally to stalk off.

“You okay, Steve?” Rhodes asked and Steve nodded, a shaky grin forming on his face.

“Yeah”

“And _you’re awesome_ ,” Tony chuckled and pointed at Rhodes with his Rememberall, “That was absolutely awesome. His _face_.”

“Yeah, I am,” Rhodes grinned with a shrug and gestured to the ball, “And you’d better remember that.”

“Now who’s being cheesy?” Sam snorted and clapped a hand on Steve’s back as Rhodes simply shrugged in reply.

By the time Toomes came back, Steve had made friends with Sam and Tony had become friends with Rhodes, whom he now called Rhodey.

Steve shot Tony a small grin as Toomes yelled at Loki, and remembered the image of being caught mid-air.

Somehow, flying didn’t sound so bad as long as he had people to watch his back, it seemed.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s mathematically impossible,” Stephen said without looking up from the book he was reading, climbing the stairs without looking, “You can’t calculate the pattern of every staircase and the probability of slipping is far higher than hitting the target. At best you’ll fall head-first onto the banister of a set and suffer from cranial injuries.”  
  
“Wow,” Hope said dryly, eyeing the Slytherin boy’s back with a look, “You’re a barrel of fun and not strange at all.”  
  
“Simply pointing out the facts,” Stephen shrugged, slipping onto the next set of stairs without a pause as he flipped onto the next page, “And the pun about my name was a poor attempt at wit than -”  
  
There was a thud and everybody paused to look down to see Clint grinning up at them from the lower set of stairs.

“What? Mathematics proven wrong yet?” he hollered and Jane snorted, sparking off laughter from everyone.  
  
“He does realize that he has to climb up another set of stairs now, right?” Jessica asked, her green tie askew on her collar.  
  
“It’s Clint,” Jane said as an explanation as she dropped off a book in Gamora’s arms, shooting her a glare, “Stop putting your books into my bag, Mora, honestly. I don’t care that you hate Divination, Professor Ego is not going to buy your excuse of losing your book.”  
  
“You don’t have to deal with him bringing out his little,” Natasha made a face and waved her hand vaguely, “modified pet or whatever Mantis is, to touch your hand and tell everyone that you’re feeling nothing. All the time. One more time it happens and I’m gonna -”  
  
“Do something to get detention?” Steve asked with a wry voice and got a mild punch in the shoulder for his suggestion, “Why is violence always the answer with you?”  
  
“That is the most ironic sentence I have heard in the last two months and I heard Peter ranting about how he hates his quill,” Gamora said as she tried yanking at her blue tie in irritation.  
  
Steve turned to look at Rhodey who simply raised an eyebrow.

“We have double Divination today,” he said in a deadpanned tone, “My ability to sympathise died this morning, Rogers.”  
  
The motley group of Ravenclaws and Slytherins laughed as they entered Professor Ego’s class, scattering to find their usual spots. Steve passed by the table where Nebula, Loki, and Ivan were already seated, the two Slytherins and Ivan giving him no notice as he settled into the table behind them. Bruce slipped into his spot beside Steve and Jane collapsed into the other seat with a wince.   
  
Behind them, Natasha and Jessica had already slipped into their seats, waiting for Clint to come in.   
  
There was a rattling sound and Steve craned his neck to see Ego saunter in, his silvery robe almost floating in a trail behind him and an eerily dreamy smile on his face. Ego was not Steve’s favourite professor but that was probably also because Steve found Divination to be a bunch of -

“Shit,” Clint gasped as he came running in, panting a little for breath and grinning at Ego, “Sorry, Professor, the stairs were a little uncooperative.”

“More like he jumped off them like an idiot, but sure,” Bruce muttered and Steve stifled a snort as Ego waved Clint in absently, starting a conversation with Justin about his dream of the previous night. Clint winked at Stephen in the front row before rushing in to sit between Natasha and Jessica with a grin.

“Professor,” Loki spoke up and Steve noticed that he was smiling at Ego the way he did when he wanted someone to go along his way, “I was reading something interesting in the library last week -”

“Hair care?” Clint whispered loudly and a few kids laughed but Loki simply carried on.

“- and it spoke about a strange myth,” he said, frowning a little, “It was in the Divination section, so I presumed you would know, of course but - well, it might also be a little…non-academic.”

“Nonsense,” Ego grinned, always happy when someone flattered him with attention, “Learning should always be limitless! Go ahead, Loki, what is it?”

Loki smiled then, a smile Steve had always connected to that of a predator.

“It was about a prophecy,” he said and leaned forward a little, “A prophecy called _The Honeycomb Vengeance_ ?”

It was instant, the way Ego’s face drained of colour before he tried to smooth out his expression and brought out a painfully fake smile.

“Must bee interesting,” Clint commented from behind, “Wouldn’t sting to know about it, right, Professor? I’m sure we could suck in some extra knowledge.”

“As terrible as Barton’s humour is,” Nebula spoke up, “We would like to know about this, indeed.”

“That’s…where did you read that, Loki, my boy?” Ego laughed, sound grating, “I applaud your interest in the history of Divination though.”

“So what Loki read is false?” Ivan asked and Ego shot a quick look through the class but Ivan continued speaking, “Because it’s in a book that the school library has.”

“You don’t have to say anything if you aren’t familiar with it, Professor,” Loki shook his head, “It must have been a false information. It’s alright, I’ll just -”

“It’s not false!” Ego snapped in an offended tone and the whole class went still. He seemed to realize that and cleared his throat, shrugging a little, “It’s not false.”

When Loki simply looked at him with an encouraging expression, Ego deflated a little and took a deep breath.

“The _Honeycomb Vengeance,_ ” he began in a weary voice, eyes going distant, “is a legend that has been passed on and forgotten in the last two decades.”

“But you know it,” Gamora interjected and Ego paused but nodded.

“Almost 20 years ago,” he explained, walking to the centre of the room slowly, “there was a Seer who came from a different part of the world. They were -”

“He or she?” Misty asked and Ego shot her a look.

“ _They_ ,” he stressed, “were foreign to this land but not to the ways of magic. This Seer was looking for a place to call home and accepted the offer of a powerful stranger in exchange for an unnamed favour. In their desperation, the Seer accepted and were given sanctuary.”

“Months passed and the Seer didn’t get any communication about this favour, so they moved on with their life,” Ego said, looking out the window, “But then it all changed when they had a vision close to the Great Wizarding War.”

“What vision?” Jane asked and Ego turned away from the window.

“They said that they had seen the vision of a second war,” he said, “A war far worse than the one to come in the Wizarding world. They approached the most powerful wizard they knew and disclosed it to them, thinking that it would help prevent it. But it was too late. There was a second war that almost ended the freedom of their world and it was resolved but with great cost.”

“But this was not the worst to happen to the Seer,” Ego smiled, a horrible empty one, “Oh no. The Seer got a visit from the person they owed a favour to. It isn’t clear if it was a coincidence or a known fact, but this visit happened in the heels of a second vision. A prophecy.”

“About a honeycomb?” Clint asked and Ego shook his head.

“About the visitor,” he said, “The prophecy was said to be about this visitor’s future and the destruction of the Wizarding world on a scale nobody had seen. The Seer prophesied a future of darkness where the visitor would rule the world.”

“But?” Loki prompted.

“But there was a second part,” Ego eyed Loki, “The part about a group of saviours who would rise to avenge the world. A honeycomb bond that will lay groundwork for the reclaiming of freedom.”

“What happened to the Seer?” Bruce asked and Steve felt a chill run down his spine when Ego looked over at them.

“Something he would have preferred death to,” he said and blinked, coughing lightly before clapping once, “But this is a legend and a tale that is a good advertising of Divination, not the actual art though. Actual divination would be what you’ll study today! Please take Page 143 of your books please, and read paragraph three.”

Steve complied and let Ego’s ramble about Dreams And Symbols wash over him as he tried to avoid falling asleep.

The feeling of something weird stayed with him though, even after they left the double classes, a long assignment in hand.

Loki’s smile as he passed by him didn’t ease the feeling either.

He pushed it down as much as he could and got ready for another bout of flying lessons, this time with Ravenclaws.

He was sure Clint would prove to be better at falling than him at the very least.

-×-×-

Tony was inches away from clambering over the desk and whacking Rumlow over the head.

“You know how every House has someone to be the worst example of it?” Pepper asked, gritting through the teeth, “No offence, Barnes, but Rumlow is the worst of Gryffindor.”

“You think this is bad? Try living with the guy in the same dorm,” Bucky snorted, writing ridiculous limericks on his parchment, “Sometimes Matt ‘accidentally’ throws something at his head and then plays the blind card.”

“Matt has better aim than an archer,” Peter Quill huffed and leaned forward to rest his chin on his fist, “But if he uses it to hit Brock, nobody’s complaining.”

“Does he ever hear his own words?” Tony asked and eyed as Professor Van Dyne started going red in the face at whatever Rumlow was arguing, “But more than that, does anybody know where his mute button is? Guy just doesn’t know to stop talking.”

“Ironic from present company but agreed,” Pepper chuckled a little and Tony nudged her elbow to make her quill scratch across the parchment.

Pepper, or Virginia as her parents named her naïvely, had become Tony’s lodestone in the past two months of Hogwarts. While Sam was fun and always a good friend, he was much more Steve’s type of friend and got along with him really well; the same way that Tony got along with Rhodey. Pepper was smart, efficient, hard-working, and sarcastic to a fault with a devilishly innocent expression which made her Tony’s favourite in many aspects.

She also shared an intense dislike for Justin Hammer of Ravenclaw, so Tony was even closer to her.

“Mister Rumlow!” Professor Van Dyne, or Jan as the Hufflepuff students called her outside class, “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm about history, lauding oppression and genocide seems like a bad place to invest your attention! Now, please, _sit down_ so I may make some use of today’s class.”

While Professor Jan was usually amicable and kind, there were times when she would be closer to a wasp in anger. Brock seemed to guess that and settled down with a grumble. The professor took a breath and turned to the rest of the class with a less furious expression.

“As we were discussing,” she said and walked around, her black robe with yellow hem swirling behind her, “The history of magic is always changing with the history of the wars waged for it or using it. For better or for worse is never a clear verdict because no war is ever really won. The effects of it linger for ages and it pays its cost in lives.”

“The Wizarding world has changed its laws of magic because of war many times,” she continued and a list of major changes appeared on the board behind her with a wave of her hand, “but there are also other causes for a law to change. Any guesses?”

Sif raised her hand in the row just ahead of Tony and the professor nodded at her.

“Muggles,” Sif answered.

“Very good, Sif, 5 points to Gryffindor,” Jan nodded with a smile, “Even though you could be a little more specific the next time.”

“I could have said that,” Tony grumbled and Bucky snorted next to him.

“You sleep, you weep, Stark,” he said with a grin and Tony was determined to get some points for Hufflepuff by the end of the class.

“Association with Muggles and the consequences of them have altered some laws too,” Jan explained, “Anyone knows the major cases of Muggle related law changes?”

Tony put up his hand but Carol beat him by a second and the professor gestured to her.

“The Invisibility Law and the Apparition Law of 1978,” she answered and Jan awarded Gryffindor 5 more points. Bucky waggled his eyebrows at Tony smugly and Tony scowled at him.

His hand shot up before he could even reconsider.

“Yes, Mister Stark?” Professor Jan promoted and Tony stood up, eyeing the class for a second before speaking.

“The Transfer Of Powers Law of 1991,” he said quietly and Jan’s face froze for a second.

“That wasn’t because of Muggles, that was because of the Great War,” Trish Walker pointed out and Tony heard Pepper hiss about how the girl was ruining points for her own house.

“The law changed _after_ the Great War,” Tony said, aware of everybody’s attention on him, “but it didn’t change _because_ of it. The cause was still association with Muggles, even though the circumstances were the War’s aftermath.”

“Yes, it is true, Anthony is correct,” Thor spoke up from behind Tony.

“That’s good, Tony, thank you -”

“The law changed because of the Red Skull,” Thor continued like the professor hadn’t spoken at all, “And he was a Muggle, wasn’t he?”

“That’s a fable, buddy,” Scott spoke up from behind, “You’re getting your history and bedtime tales mixed up.”

“Boys..”

“It is true!” Thor protested, getting to his feet, “My father has told me and my brother the tale of the Second War many times! It was fought against the Muggle named Red Skull!”

“What’s a Red…Skull?” Claire asked from ahead and many people spoke in a jumble.

“She’s a muggle-born,” Danny said to the professor who raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know, thank you, Mister Rand,” she said dryly before turning to look at Tony with a small smile, “Well, Mister Stark, do you know the answer to that?”

Tony looked at Claire and cleared his throat.

“According to an old tale,” he began, a story he had heard when Father was in a good mood during rare times, “there was once a Muggle who wanted to become a wizard at any cost. He searched far and wide for a way to get magic, sometimes even capturing people he thought were wizards to get information about it. No wizard or witch helped him till he came across a wizard who was also a man of science.”

“The Serum-Maker,” Carol chimed in and Tony nodded.

“He was called the Serum-Maker and he had come up with a potion that he said could cure squibs,” Tony continued, “He wanted to take it to the Ministry and get it official but he first came across this Muggle, who offered to finance him till he got his proof of success. The Serum-Maker finished his work and told the Muggle that he was ready to share this discovery with the world.”

“But the Muggle had other plans,” Professor Jan spoke up, a quiet thoughtful look on her face, “He stole the potion at night and drank it himself, thinking that it would give him magic just as it would cure squibs. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work as he expected.”

“The potion gave him strength,” Tony nodded and remembered Father’s expression when he told this part, “more strength than a Muggle should have. But it also took his body and humanity. His body was not equipped to handle the potion and faded away, leaving him with a grotesque appearance of a skull framed by a bloody mass.”

Everybody shuddered at that and Tony continued.

“The Muggle, now a freak and called the Red Skull, tried to ask the Serum-Maker for help,” Tony told, “but the wizard was disgusted with him and escaped. Angered and frustrated, the Red Skull approached another wizard, a Dark one, and offered a trade of power in the Muggle world for true magic. The Dark Wizard agreed and gave the Red Skull a part of his magic, commanding him to wage a war for him.”

“The details get sketchy here,” Jan said and shrugged, “but the basic version of the tale says that a group of extremely brave and extraordinary wizards and witches fought the Red Skull and his pet army in a battle. The wizards and witches managed to win but at the cost of their own lives. Some versions say that the battlefield was burned down by an explosion of an unusual energy.”

“The tale goes that the Ministry found out about the transfer of magic,” Tony concluded, “and it led to them shutting down that option as well. Though no one knows how it is even possible.”

“That’s because it’s a fable, Mister Stark,” the professor smiled and clapped her hands, “but you told it extremely well. Ten points to Hufflepuff, for the tale and the answer because yes, that law is valid.”

Tony sat down to a pat from Pepper on his back and grinned at Bucky.

When they were leaving the class though, ready to get to dinner, he saw the professor gazing at the board with a pensive and sour look.

“Is everything alright, Professor?” he asked quietly and she jerked, smiling when she spotted him.

“Oh, oh yes, Tony, thank you,” she nodded, “Good work during class today.”

“It was just a fable,” he shrugged, a little embarrassed but her smile turned a little sad at that.

“Sometimes, Tony,” she said with a pat to his shoulder, “fables tell us more about the past than the facts of it. The lessons from stories are no less worth than those of facts.”

Tony was a little off-kilter at that but nodded and left the room with a goodbye.

That night, he dreamt of an explosion.

Miles and lands away, a multi-headed snake shifted awake under a red hand that stroked it to calm it down.

The time to awake for many was nearing.


	6. Chapter 6

There's always a pause between breakfast talk and breakfast for Rhodey, and Tony has tapped his ankle enough times to get him to hurry, had his own ankle kicked enough to stuff a bread in before rushing off after Sam. They started eating together sometime after the Steve Incident which Scott also calls the Incident To Remember because Scott is a man of puns and the Rememberall was too easy to not use for puns. There's a Slytherin table where Sam sits next to Steve sometimes and Tony sleeps into his own arms while Rhodey munches on dry toast during days that they all know would stretch too long. There's a Hufflepuff table where Steve sits between Luke and Pepper, throwing bacon strips at Sam like it would get him to stop mimicking Steve and Tony laughs against Clint's shoulder, both of them bitching at each other just minutes ago. There are four Houses and more tables in the Great Hall but there's a bunch of students who somehow match in mismatched tables, eating the same breakfast and bemoaning different issues.

Tony took a sip of his juice and considered choking on it before a hand nudged his upper arm.

"Stop," Matt muttered and sliced his sausages because he sliced  _everything_. Tony met Matt at the beginning of the year but he hadn't officially known him till the Gryffindor boy had head-slammed an older Hufflepuff guy for picking on Mantis. Bakuto, the third-year, had whipped out his wand and Matt, blind, snarling Matt, had whipped out his own but then Bakuto's gang had made a chaos of noise to make it difficult for Matt to hear Bakuto. Tony didn't know the details in clarity because Matt always petered out in storytelling and nobody else noted every detail. What Tony did know though was that Jessica Jones, the Slytherin girl who didn't like most people in general and always looked too exhausted with everyone, _that_ Jessica had sent Bakuto a stunner that knocked him onto his ass. A horde of Hufflepuffs had gathered by then but they had not expected Luke and Danny, who had come out of class with Jessica. Danny liked to tell everyone that they had become a stunning team in an instant but Luke simply shrugged. Whatever the case, the four had fought off seniors in broad daylight and had spent a week of detention together. 

Sam once said that people gossiped about them being a gang of misfitting defenders now. 

It didn't make any difference when they sometimes sat with the others though. Like today.

"I took a sip of my juice," Tony said, putting his goblet down with a sharp exhale, "What exactly should I stop? Drinking?"

"Thinking," Matt smiled around a bite of his sausage, "You think too loud."

"You really do," Claire nodded from across the table, eyes fixed to the parchment she was perusing. Tony knew that it was the assignment on the Puffapods. "It's annoying," she said, calmly snagging a strawberry from the bowl in the middle before getting back to her work.

"This is why the Gryffindor table is always a bad idea," Tony threw his hands up and twisted to stab a finger in Peter's face, "I told you this was a bad idea. I should have stuck to the Ravenclaw. At least Gamora just tries to stab my fingers with her fork. Or the Slytherin table, because let's face it, Strange is weird but also  _hilarious_ when he doesn't get his own joke. Or the Hufflepuff table, which is  _my_ table -"

"But you're fighting with half your table so you can't," Carol cut in, spreading jam over her biscuit, shooting a sharp look at Tony from across him, "And you can't afford to miss breakfast today because Drax will wear you down to your bones. You know, during try-outs. Which you're  _fighting with half your table_ over."

Tony resisted the urge to throw a fruit at Carol's face but reined himself in because he needed his limbs intact for the day. 

"Not Pepper," he mumbled into his goblet instead and it was pathetic how he was trying to justify one person's  _not-ruined_ friendship.

"Yeah, you're fighting with  _her_ because you're," Claire paused and looked thoughtful before pointing at Tony with her quill, "well, a prick."

"A teeny tiny one," Carol sing-songed with a smile around the biscuit she shoved into her mouth. 

Tony took a long and loud sip of his juice in answer that got a laugh from Matt and groans from Claire. His eyes slid to the Hufflepuff table, directly across Gryffindor, and caught sight of Steve and Sam, heads together discussing something intensely. To Steve's left, Scott was reading a letter and munching on his toast. Luke and Danny were talking animatedly with Pepper chiming in during intervals. Bruce was wedged between Clint and Jane, Natasha across the table idly reading the Quibbler. Rhodey wasn't there, but Tony knew that Rhodey had early morning practice with his team. The Slytherin try-outs had been a week earlier and Rhodey had been an easy choice. Tony had snorted when he had seen Rhodey write  _James Rhodes - Chaser_ on a loop into his Charms book. He had been happy. He had been  _happy_ for Rhodey.

Rhodey wasn't there now though, not there to push Tony to stop worrying and work up a mess in his head. He had stayed the previous night, the innocent face working when he had slipped into the Hufflepuff dorm. He had stayed in Tony's bed, quiet and teasing, supportive in his way. He had stayed even though Sam had been just a bed away. 

"I could always ..."

Matt put his fork down and grabbed Tony's shoulder, pulling till he twisted to face the boy and Tony knew that Matt couldn't see but his eyes were intense, honest and calm in their fearlessness.

"If you don't do this," he said, unseeing eyes focused on Tony's cheek, "you're not doing anyone a favour. Not yourself, not Wilson, not  _anyone_. You don't walk away from trying just because you think you'll hurt someone. And if someone is hurt by you trying to do something good for yourself, then -"

"-why the fuck would you even bother caring about them?" Jess Jones completed as she plopped into the seat next to Tony and everybody stared at her. The Slytherin leaned across Tony, picked up a neatly cut piece of sausage and popped it into her mouth. "What?" she asked and Matt ran a hand over his face, shaking his head as everybody started laughing, the mood shifting over the absurdity of the whole thing.

"Alright," Tony said as he chuckled, "fine. Let's go catch a snitch then!"

Carol punched him in the arm and Claire made jokes about keeping the med-bay informed but they all wished him luck as Tony gathered his stuff before walking out towards the grounds where the try-outs would happen. He passed by the Hufflepuff table and he never intended it, didn't intend to meet Sam's eyes but Steve looked up. His eyes widened for a minute and his face relaxed into a modicum of a smile but Tony could only nod back, trying to leave before anything else, but then Sam looked up. 

Tony hoped his face was calm, hoped he didn't look affected but he knew it wasn't. 

It was stupid, absolutely  _moronic_. The whole fight was a ridiculous disaster, and Tony didn't know if anybody even remembered why it had started. Maybe it had been when Sam's mom had fallen ill and Tony had kept quiet over comforting because he didn't know how to comfort someone about that. Maybe it had been when Sam had spent the entire weekend of his birthday with Steve and Bucky, only smiling tiredly at Tony when Tony had wished him. Maybe it had been during Charms class when Sam had chosen to be paired with Natasha and Tony had made a show of not caring before partnering with Bruce. Maybe it had been when Tony's joke about Sam's broom had fallen flat and made him look like a rich brat. Maybe -maybe - there were too many things and nothing in concrete. All Tony remembered was getting into a petty fight over the try-outs and the dorm turning into a verbal duel chamber. It had snowballed into sides and splits and Tony didn't  _know_ where to hold things together anymore.

Sam's gaze was steady as he eyed Tony and Tony  _hated_ it, hated not being able to cover that short distance and just say sorry. Or say  _something_. He looked away and was about to move when his eyes caught the letter grasped tight in Sam's hand. It was a lavender shade of parchment and Tony knew that parchment,  _knew_ who sent it. He looked back up, eyes snapping to meet Sam's and felt his blood run cold for a second.

Sam's mom - He knew about her illness and Tony didn't even pause to think, he moved. It didn't matter, nothing mattered. If Sam was angry at him, if Tony was angry at him,  _nothing_ mattered if Sam's mom was -

His breath caught in his chest and Tony's feet swallowed the distance to the table and stood behind Danny, who was nearest and across from Sam.

"Is she okay?" Tony asked, staring at Sam and ignoring the looks from the others. He didn't  _care_ ; it wasn't worth it if something had happened. "I - she - what happened?"

"Stark ..." Bucky started but Tony leaned beside Danny, leaned halfway over the table and placed his hand in between, awkwardly pressing into the wood.

"Sam, is mom okay?" he asked, because Sam hadn't  _slept_ over this for so long now and Tony knew how illnesses worked. "Is something wrong?" he demanded, swallowing hard as Sam frowned slightly, "What does the letter say? Is she better now? Did something happen?  _Sam_?"

The confusion cleared on Sam's face and his eyes widened.

"It's fine," he said quickly, raising a hand that hovered over the table for a minute before he placed it flat on it, "Tony, it's fine, she's not - No, it's not anything serious."

"But - that parchment - only Jessie sends you that and she -," Tony didn't know to verbalize it, the panic in his chest that was slowly churning. Sam's older sister only sent him updates about his mother's health and she had sent it just the previous day. 

"She's fine," Sam's eyes softened, an uncanny understanding of it and he leaned forward, "Tony, mom's fine. Jessie just sent a letter to wish me good luck for the try-outs."

"Oh," Tony's breath stuttered and he leaned back, willing his nerves to calm down, "Oh - that's good. Good, that's - yeah. Good luck, yes."

Sam pursed his lips and Tony breathed in to quip something nonchalant before leaving. He had no idea of continuing the awkwardness and the image of his own mother with sallow eyes and weekly medication was still flashing behind his eyes, a memory of the reality Tony was living and never wanted anyone to go through.

"Right, I'll just -"

"I'm sorry," Sam blurted and Tony stilled, "I don't even remember what we're fighting about anymore and this whole thing is stupid. Danny gives shitty morale boosters and Steve is pathetic at flying tactics."

"Hey!" Steve protested beside Sam but Tony could see the beginnings of a smile on his face.

"I -," Tony breathed out and felt his own lips twitch at the absolute frustration on Sam's face, "I don't know what we're fighting about either. Must have been something really cool though."

"And really kickass"

"And really important"

"And really -"

"For Merlin's sake!" Clint groaned, "This is even  _worse_ than your fight. Somebody stop them and save me!"

"Fuck off, Birdbrain!" both Sam and Tony chorused, and it set everyone off, the tension breaking as Clint made a hue and cry that was soundly ignored. Tony jerked his head in the door's direction and Sam nodded mid-laugh, clapping Steve on the back before getting up to join Tony.

"We cool?" Sam nudged Tony's shoulder as they walked out in their uniforms, side by side, towards the ground. Tony grinned and nudged him back.

"The coolest," he said and Sam threw an arm around his shoulder, forming a light headlock as they chuckled their way to the try-outs.

-x-x-

Natasha frowned down at her essay, mouth pinching at an error, and reached across to pick up her quill. When her hand wrapped around something sticky instead of her usual smooth feather, she exhaled sharply and looked up with narrowed eyes.

" _Barton_ ," she hissed and Clint looked up from the book he was listlessly thumbing through, a soggy quill in his mouth.

"What?" he frowned a little at Natasha's murderous expression and looked down to see the quill she was holding threateningly, "What - oh."

"Clint," Bruce said with an exasperated voice, looking at him from beside Natasha, "Sugar quills? In the library?"

"I was wondering why this one tasted so bad," Clint grimaced as he spat out the other quill and made a face, "Anyway, it wasn't mine. It was Thor's. He's the one who sneaked it in."

All three pairs of eyes turned to the corner of the table where Jane was furiously noting down something and a regal Gryffindor was pointing something at her textbook occasionally, his eyes sneaking up to her face more than often. 

"Is he tutoring her or  _tutoring_ her?" Bruce asked and winced, having heard the way his words sounded, "Sorry, just, why is Thor Odinson helping Jane with Astronomy?"

"She stunned him in DADA by accident," Sif spoke up and Clint jumped, not having noticed when she had settled down near him.

"What?"

"She stunned him," the brunette raised her head from the table and rolled her eyes, "by  _accident_. She was aiming at Fandral but hit Thor. She  _stunned_ him."

"And now he's mooning over her," Natasha surmised with a shake of her head, "It's like he enjoys being hit by lightning. So, what? He brought sugar quills to distract or bribe?"

"I think he just bought it for himself," Bruce shrugged and Clint shared a look with Natasha before they both nodded. Clint tried to snatch the quill from Natasha's hand but she pulled it back and began chewing at it.

"Finders keepers," she grinned and Clint huffed, letting his head fall onto the table to hushing from everyone around them.

 The library was finding and losing students through the hours, some of them desperately picking out notes for last minute assignments or tests while others lazed around to read in peace. Jane left after a while and Thor nodded at the rest with a smile before he followed her. Clint pulled out the facts he needed for the Herbology assignment and waited for Nat and Bruce to finish their work, doodling magic cartoons on parchment pieces and folding them into rockets for later. 

His eyes caught a flash of black and he looked closer to see Loki slink out of a row between bookshelves, casting a cautious look above his shoulder. Clint narrowed his eyes lightly and looked back at Nat and Bruce, both of whom were busy with their notes. 

If there was one thing his friends didn't know about him, it was that Clint had always had a nose for trouble. Maybe it was the circus he had run away from, the father he had never mentioned to anyone, the lies he had spun to keep himself alive in a foster home, the sense he had developed to know when a corner was going to be wrong. It was a constant prickle in his skin even as he joked and smiled, a pinpoint focus of a larger picture. It was an intuition and instinct, both which Clint didn't ignore.

He slipped out of his chair and shot a look at his friends before following Loki's path. It was easy, mingling with the crowds that walked the hallways as Clint kept a distance between himself and Loki. The taller Slytherin slipped and weaved between the crowds seamlessly while Clint kept track of him, following him with his eyes. They shift two hallways and Clint was ready to give up when Loki slipped into a hallway -

\- and disappeared.

"That's...unusual," Clint let out a slow breath and looked around, trying to find a door or an alcove where Loki might have slipped into. He scanned the hallway with his eyes once and closed them. It was an old trick, a trade secret that the circus had left on him before he had run. The trick was to see what sight didn't show, to pick a memory and go through it without the eyes distracting the mind. 

He had walked down every hallway of the castle. He knew this one. Knew the bricks and the curves of it. He had caught every detail as he had walked with his friends, noting things as an after-thought. Twenty four steps down, twelve steps across. He knew it the way you learned a prison's details. No door, no hole, no alcove no -

He stilled in his mind and rewound back to the part where a portrait of an empty throne hung. It had always been empty, right from the time they had all walked into Hogwarts. It looked like a throne of metal and magic, blue and grey in equal shades with a skull imprint at the helm. It was always empty and always cold. 

Clint opened his eyes and zeroed in on the portrait, dragging his eyes down to the portion below it. He walked towards the wall, steady and nervous, and stood right against it for a minute, calmly looking at it. 

He raised a hand and pressed it against the wall, feeling for something, anything. There was nothing, nothing except for smooth brick and wall and -

His hand hit a bump and Clint looked at it to see a red mark over it. A dot. A drop of colour. 

Steeling himself, Clint pressed at it and felt it yield, pressing into the wall. He breathed out and stared at the sight unraveling before him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Phil Coulson was never the adventurous sort. 

It had been the one thing he had always heard, from the day he held memory. His mother running a hand through his hair while smiling at his aunt and refusing a trip for him. His father snorting into his tea and passing it as a comment when Uncle Leopold came home. His Muggle elementary teacher giving him a sympathetic smile before explaining it to the boy who had been pulling at him. 

Phil was never an adventurous boy. It was a known fact that everybody but himself believed. 

The third year Gryffindor resisted the urge to kick at plain air and clenched his books harder as he walked towards the library. There was no point in being angry, not when he had no source or end to it. Melinda had shot Alistair Fitz a vicious look when he had laughed about Phil not possibly being interested in a Hogsmeade trip to WW; it didn't change anything though. The assumption, the tag stuck, like a badly glued sticker to his forehead. 

He breathed through his teeth and turned around the corner, adjusting his grip on his books when he looked up and paused. There was a boy standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the wall. A quick look told Phil that he was a Ravenclaw and Phil knew the third year Ravenclaws so this must be someone younger. The boy was doing nothing, no harm or help, but was simply staring at the wall with an uneasy stillness to him. 

Phil looked beyond the boy and behind himself. There was nobody there, not yet. 

"Hey," he called out, "Hey, are you okay?"

No response. Phil took a breath and walked towards the boy, slow and steady steps. A hex or a curse would seem likely but the boy looked calm, curious even. 

"Hey," he called out again, closer to the boy to notice his dirty blond hair and scrape on the forehead, "Hey, kid, are you alright? Do you - did something happen?"

There was no response again and Phil felt a moment's hesitation before he shifted his books to one hand and placed the other hand on the boy's shoulder.

The response was instantaneous and the boy whirled around, pale and cold faced but it was his eyes that Phil felt frozen by. There was a blue sheen, unnatural and dead, to them; like they were unseeing but also looking right through Phil. It was like the touch of ice and frost, and Phil felt his fingers clench on the boy's shoulder.

The boy blinked and the eyes were normal; a pale shade of grey with a normal retina. 

"What was -"

"Clint!" a voice echoed and Phil looked over to see two other boys running towards them, both grinning like loons while the darker one was panting for breath. "Clint, you bum, guess what!" one of them laughed and shook the other one by the arm.

"Tony, Sam, wait up!" another voice came and a horde of other students walked over into the hallway too; a blond Slytherin, redhead Ravenclaw with a fellow brunet, and a dark Slytherin who was straightening his tie.

"He got in!" the first boy announced, still shaking the other brunet, who was grinning even as his face turned red, "Son of a gun actually got in! First year and Seeker of the Hufflepuff team!"

"It was okay," the brunet shrugged but the mad gleam in his brown eyes said different and he shot a curious look at Phil before the dark Slytherin boy came over and slung an arm around his shoulder.

"Okay?  _Okay_?" the boy laughed, sharing a look with the blond, "Tony, okay is Hammer staying in the air for more than 15 seconds.  _That_ was not just  _okay_. Steve, tell him!"

"You pulled off a Wronski Feint  _and_ a Plumpton Pass," Steve shook his head and smiled at Tony as his shoulder bumped into the Hufflepuff boy holding Tony's arm, "Tony, that is possibly the best try-out in history."

"And the most entertaining!" the Hufflepuff laughed and thumped Tony's back as the redhead came around them to stand beside Clint, shooting Coulson a wary look.

"Who're you?"

"Phil," he replied, "Phil Coulson."

"Ah, you're in the third year with Melinda, right?," the Ravenclaw brunet nodded, "Sif mentioned you."

Phil nodded and realized that he still had a hand on Clint's shoulder. Taking it off, he moved a step back and looked at Clint.

"So, you're okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Clint replied, frowning and laughing as he turned to his friends, "I was just going to try and sneak out more candy from Thor when I bumped into him. Hey, you got in?! That's great, Stark! What about you, Sam?"

"Not this time," Sam shrugged but grinned, "I did make Drax fall once though and it was  _totally_ worth it."

"You're lucky he didn't pummel you," Clint laughed and high fived Sam, "We have to celebrate this. First Rhodey gets in and now Tony. This is going to be either epic or an epic fail. Either way, win for entertainment!"

"You're an ass, Barton," Tony snorted but he looked too happy to mean it and they looked ready to leave. Phil felt out of place and out of sorts, but Clint was turning away and Phil didn't  _know_ what he had seen or not seen. He was tired and weary but he felt uneasy over something that was strange. 

The group sauntered off, Tony leaning into Rhodey and bumping hands with Steve while Sam horsed around with the brunet Ravenclaw and Clint. 

The redhead lingered.

"What?" Phil asked but she stared at him, curious and calculating before she shook her head and turned.

"Take care," she dropped over her shoulder and walked away, leaving Phil in an empty hallway.

He turned to the wall Clint had been staring at when he came and wondered what the boy had seen that was as enthralling as to hold his attention.

As though something hypnotic.

Away from Phil, Clint laughed and joked but his mind went over the same blankness that had been fed into him by the energy. The bruise on his chest was hidden and Clint played to the tune of an unknown voice echoing in his brain.

That night, Clint's bed was empty and there were two boys in an old hallway; one a sweating Slytherin with a false calm and the other a calm Ravenclaw with too much truth. The Slytherin pressed on a red spot and the wall developed a transparency, a hole of nowhere.

"Let's go," Loki whispered and led the newest recruit into the portal for the latest induction and meeting of a rising name. 

Steve awoke with a gasp in the Slytherin dorm, a flash of a blue explosion behind his eyes as a nightmare passed. He didn't know what the blue fire or the explosion meant but it had looked too real.

Like a memory he had never lived.


End file.
